Silencing the Taliban

Whatever the original plan was when two shooters tried to assassinate Malala Yousafzai two years ago, that cowardly deed has clearly backfired in the most spectacular way. Today, the Nobel Committee awarded the 17-year-old Malala the 2014 Peace Prize, focusing attention on the urgent need for the universal education of young girls.

On the afternoon of October 9, 2012, two men, both armed, stopped a Toyota Townace bus from the Khushal School in the Swat Valley in Pakistan. The small bus held two dozen people: 20 schoolgirls, three teachers, and the driver. One of the men forced his way inside and asked, "Who is Malala?" No one answered, but several girls instinctively turned to the only one whose face was uncovered. The man raised his Colt .45 and shot three times, hitting the 15-year-old once in her left eye socket and, after she slumped forward, hitting the two girls beside her, one in the hand and shoulder and the other in the arm.

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Although the name and photograph of the gunman quickly spread around the world, the Pakistani authorities claimed to be unable to find him; they now consider the case closed. But instead of silencing the intended target, the shooting only amplified her voice. After a miraculous recovery, Malala Yousafzai has become one of the most galvanizing figures on earth, the co-author, at the age of 16, the co-author of a book, I Am Malala, that has spent six months on best-seller lists, and at age 17, the co-winner of the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize.

The shooting was a tragedy, but Malala's ability to inspire was no accident. Much of her eloquence and bravery can be traced to her father, Ziauddin Yousafzai, the sort of figure you do not often run into anymore, a poet and revolutionary who founded a school—in open defiance of the Taliban—dedicated to the radical proposition that both boys and girls deserve an education.

Malala's cause is equally indebted to the organizational genius of Shiza Shahid, a native of Islamabad and graduate of Stanford. Shahid, now 24, is the co-founder and CEO of the Malala Fund, and, like the charity's namesake, she was outspoken at an early age, sneaking out of her home to protest or to work in women's prisons or earthquake camps. These instincts led her to Malala even before the shooting; when the Taliban tried to shut down Malala's school, Shahid, during a college break, helped create a summer camp for her and her schoolmates, a savvy ruse that allowed them to continue their studies without risking Taliban attacks.

When she heard of the shooting, Shahid was working for McKinsey & Company in Dubai; she flew immediately to Birmingham, England, where Malala had been sent for treatment. As the girl recovered her speech, and her resolve, Shahid helped handle the press. She found a ghostwriter and negotiated a book contract. She set up a foundation to channel the outpouring of support. "We were born out of inspiration, out of the miracle that is Malala's life," Shahid says. Much of their work now is practical, such as helping to compensate poor families who send their daughters to school, since young women in Pakistan are often hired as domestic labor. The fund also helps attract international attention, as when Malala and Shahid went to visit long-term Syrian refugee camps in Jordan. "We're young, at an early stage," says Shahid, who is speaking at Town & Country's philanthropy summit in New York City on May 28. "We don't have billions of dollars, but we can offer our insight and voice. And we can draw investment. We know that we're being listened to, and with that comes great responsibility."